


Thirty Two

by Elsey8



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Freckles, Getting Back Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining, Relationship Study, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29357814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsey8/pseuds/Elsey8
Summary: Akira, and all the time he's seen Goro, all the way up to the first time he really truly gets to see his entirety.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 9
Kudos: 143





	Thirty Two

The first time Akira sees Goro is on the TV. 

He’s cleaning up in Leblanc before he flips the closed sign for Sojiro and goes to bed. He happens to glance up and there he is. He only half listens to what he’s saying, doesn’t really watch as he finishes washing the dishes. 

He wouldn’t be aware enough at that point to study his face for the exhaustion pressing into his face and sinking it in more than makeup could ever hope to cover up. He has no idea he should be watching, should use every bit of his observation to take in the sight of him before their game starts. 

Before they meet for the first time at the TV station, Akira sees a good amount of Goro around anyway. He sees him constantly, around the city, on the TV, lurking while Akira is waiting for the train. He just never notices, never actually looks at him. He doesn’t realize he should be  _ looking _ . 

Morgana mentions that he could be trouble for them, and Akira simply bitterly agrees. 

And then he meets Goro. Sort of, because really he meets Akechi. He meets the Detective Prince, the boy who will become their princely Crow with a deadly(false) smile. 

But does that count when he sees through it immediately? 

He sees the mask, although what’s underneath is a mystery to him. 

He sees the rest in sections at a time. An off comment, an expression that just barely slips, bits of his past, the truths that Akira can guess just based off of his lies. 

Akira is putting together a puzzle without the box, and he’s sure he’s missing more than a few pieces, but the picture is coming together anyway. 

He can guess what the missing pieces are based on what’s around them, and even with half of the full puzzle he can still see the general impressions. He doesn’t know what to do with the half finished puzzle he’s still scouring for the missing pieces for. He just has it. 

Goro wears makeup, he knows that much. At the bathhouse, Akira watches him avoid getting his face wet, stubbornly getting out when the steam starts to make him sweat. He doesn’t wipe his face off when they get wet, and Akira just  _ knows  _ he’s hiding something under that. He watches Goro so carefully, peers into his face like there’s something underneath that physical mask that will tell him anything. 

Akira doesn’t quite get his answers before everything goes to shit. 

The puzzle he ends up with is still missing pieces. 

He both is and isn’t expecting Goro to come through the door after insisting they need to talk about Maruki’s Palace. He wasn’t sure if Goro would bother with him after coming back other than the simple fact that they needed to work together in order to get through the Palace. 

There are bags under his eyes that are dark and deep set, something Goro must have needed to cover up every morning. It speaks of pure exhaustion, stress, and it’s proof that Goro really has given up the mask between them. 

He has a scar that cuts down his chin, like he’d split it at some point. That, too, must have been covered up each morning with the right application of makeup. Akira wants to ask about the story behind it, but he isn’t sure if he would get a straight answer. 

There are acne scars on either side of his face, making slight indentation in his cheeks that also must have been an imperfection that Goro had to press out of his face every day. 

In general, his face is a lot paler than Akira remembers it being, as if the makeup had darkened him up on purpose or accidentally. 

Then there are the freckles. They’re everywhere, Akira sees them concentrated over the bridge of his nose and the top of his cheeks as if he’s a porcelain doll. Then they simply continue, lighter and more sparse all over his face. It reaches across his forehead, down to his neck when Goro takes his scarf off. Akira sees them on his  _ hands  _ when he sets his gloves to the side. His hands are also scarred, the skin rough and mottled. Akira doesn’t remember them looking like that in the bathhouse, but had he really looked at Goro’s hands then anyway? Had Goro kept them out of view on purpose? 

He finds the final pieces of the puzzle he’s left untouched for the past few months. 

“You’re staring,” Goro snaps at him. 

Akira looks at his eyes, smiling sheepishly. 

“Sorry.” 

“Big surprise, I’m not as beautiful as I was marketed as. Get over it. And get used to it while you’re at it, because I don’t appreciate being gawked at like I’m a carnival attraction.” 

Akira blushes, uncertain about correcting Goro or leaving it as is. 

Because Akira is finally seeing Goro’s face and realizing that he is  _ stunning.  _

He feels a little shy after that particular revelation. 

“Sorry,” he says again. 

His throat closes up too much for him to say another word. Even though he wants to tell Goro he wasn’t staring because of that. He wants to say that Goro is absolutely more beautiful than he was marketed as, that his worth extends so far past what they possibly could have meant for him. He wants to say that he  _ sees  _ Goro right now, and ask if that’s ever happened to him before. 

Akira doesn’t tell him half of what he wants to before Maruki’s reality is collapsing and he has to close his eyes and hope he comes back. 

He doesn’t. Not immediately, at least. 

As always, Akira is the one who’s left searching the crowds for Goro’s face, unsure what he’s really looking for anymore. He isn’t sure who Goro was ever supposed to be, let alone who he  _ actually  _ was under it all. 

As is, Akira gives up looking after the first few months. They don’t turn up anything. Futaba says she’ll keep her eyes out too, but… 

If Goro wanted to disappear without a trace, Akira knows he could. If he never came back in the first place, then he’s not going to come back by virtue of Akira looking for him. There’s nothing he can do but wait and live his life constantly unsure of the outcome of things unless Goro shows up. 

He just ends up staying put. Like a lost child, staying in the same spot in hopes someone turns around and finds him. He stays in place, and tries not to be stagnant on top of it even though it’s hard some days. 

He holds his other friends close and spends his days smelling like coffee and curry and wondering how he was ever satisfied with life in his hometown. He keeps himself as busy and as happy as he can, and it’s the best he can do to work through the empty space in his chest. 

It’s a Thursday night, just past six. Akira is closing up Leblanc alone, Sojiro had just left to go grocery shopping and Akira sleeps in the attic weeknights anyway. It’s easier to get ready to go to school when he can get his coffee and curry as soon as he walks down the stairs. Saturday nights are movie nights, and Sunday mornings are family breakfast at the Sakura residence though so he stays at his room there Saturday nights. 

It’s not uncommon for Akira to lock up on his own on nights like these, and he’s more than comfortable standing behind the counter and doing homework as the time ticks by. He’d shut down early, but he’s not quite ready to turn the lights off in the cafe and go up to the attic. He has dishes he still has to take care of, his bed isn’t made, and he has a stack of more work he  _ promised  _ Kawakami he’d have on her desk by Friday morning. 

Joy. 

And then the bell above the door rings, and Akira curses internally as he sets his work aside. Please just be Sojiro, he has way too much to do to be able to afford to deal with a late customer who will want to stay forever. 

“Welcome,” he greets, straightening up and turning. 

Goro is standing in the doorway, tugging at a short tuft of hair until the leaf tangled in it comes loose and he throws it back outside. He brushes his clothes down, cheeks flushed with the cold. He steps in all the way, letting the door close gently behind him as he sits in his old spot like he’d never left. 

“Honey, I’m home,” Goro announces casually. 

Akira turns himself entirely around, keeping his back to Goro because he isn’t sure if he can face him head on when he might be dying. 

His heart is beating so fast it physically hurts, and he can’t breathe past whatever has settled heavy inside of him, filling up the space that’s sat empty for so long that Akira was starting to get used to it. He can feel Goro’s eyes still fixed on his back, and that only makes things worse. The tips of his fingers feel numb, or he’d make a coffee just to busy his hands. 

“Akira, I  _ am  _ real.” 

Akira feels dizzy when he turns again, reorienting himself too many times for his fried brain to keep up with. He catches himself and just stares. 

Goro places his hands, bare, over where Akira’s are white knuckled around the edge of the counter between them. 

Akira gulps in a breath and then another. One at a time, forcing the air in and out even though he feels like he can hardly remember how he’s supposed to breathe. He feels like it usually isn’t as quickly as this, or maybe everything is just moving faster than it usually does. 

Goro stands up again, he walks around the corner and then they’re moving together. Goro reaches past him to get a mug, sets it down and asks something he doesn’t catch the first three times. 

“Do you want a cup too?” he asks, just as patient as if it’s the first time. 

Akira nods, and Goro gets another mug too. 

Goro doesn’t know how to make coffee, can’t. But while Akira goes through the familiar motions, Goro just stands by him and makes sure he doesn’t drop anything. His hands are starting to regain feeling again, a prickly sort of sensation in them as he lets muscle memory guide him. 

Goro pours the end product for them, and Akira watches silently as he takes his mug and walks back around to sit down again. 

He’s left wondering if that even happened or if he’s just losing it, finally. But there’s coffee sitting in front of both of them. 

Goro takes a sip, staring up at him curiously as he does. Akira takes a sip, and Sojiro would probably be disappointed in this cup; it isn’t as full as he usually makes this brew. 

Goro doesn’t seem as pale as he used to. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Goro sighs, leaning forward. “Are you alright?” 

Akira doesn’t know how to respond to that. 

He leans in more, tracking the path of Goro’s freckles over his face. They’re harder to make out now that he isn’t covered in makeup or so pale he looked half dead already. They always seemed light on his face, and Akira doesn’t know if he would’ve noticed them if he didn’t look so closely at Goro all of the time. 

Still, Akira thinks he’s gotten more. They’re a little darker over his cheeks too, and his acne scars have gotten better or maybe he  _ is  _ wearing some makeup but Akira can’t really tell either way. He doesn’t care either way. 

Akira reaches, brushing his thumb over the scar on his chin. 

He wants to ask how Goro got it, but when he starts to pull together the words, Goro kisses him. His lips are dry when they fit over Akira’s, and Akira hasn’t kissed anyone since he was fourteen and he’s still coming down from a panic attack but it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him anyway. The weight in his chest settles to something that isn’t painful, and his mind goes blissfully quiet. 

Akira’s hair is too long now, he’s overdue for a haircut and his fringe is brushing against their faces. It makes Goro’s nose twitch from where it’s pressed against his cheekbone, which makes Akira lean back only for Goro to lean forward more and pull him back in. 

Goro’s hair is short, hardly long enough to hold any shape. Like it’s growing out directly from a shave, it’s wild and there’s nowhere for Akira to grip when he tries to hold the back of his head. Goro laughs against his mouth when he tries to grasp onto the short strands, and Akira huffs in return. 

Akira cradles his face instead, rubbing his thumb over and over across the skin. It’s soft, but not smooth. He could map his face this way, every blemish under his fingertips. Akira can’t get enough of the sensation, he tries to deepen their kiss and hold Goro against him with both hands and...the mug shatters when it hits the ground. 

They jolt away from one another, Goro shoving back in his chair so the coffee doesn’t spill on him. Mostly it splashes and gets all over Akira. 

“Oddly, I did not picture our reunion going this way,” Goro comments, swinging his legs around the stool to stand up. “I’ll help you clean that up.” 

“I’ve got it, give me a second.” 

Goro, of course, doesn’t listen to him for even a second. He’s already crouched on the floor trying to pick up the broken pieces of the mug. 

“Come on, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Akira insists. 

“No, I--” Goro hisses and drops a piece of the mug, which then breaks into smaller pieces. “Shit.” 

“Did you just hurt yourself? Like I told you you would?” 

“I’m never kissing you again,” Goro snaps. 

“Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, come on.” Akira helps Goro up. “Let me bandage it up for you. I’ll clean it up myself, it was my fault it’s fine.” 

Goro laughs at him, and obediently follows him into Leblanc’s bathroom to sit on the lid of the toilet and watch him scramble for antiseptic and bandages. 

It’s not a bad injury by any means, it cuts thinly along the back of his left hand, crisscrossing with another scar that’s half faded. 

Akira kneels in front of Goro, takes his left hand in both of his and marvels at how long his fingers are. He wipes it down with antiseptic, pretending not to notice the way Goro’s other hand clenches and he looks the other way. 

He traces a nearby scar before he peels open the bandaid and smooths it over the cut. 

“I think you took that a little too seriously,” Goro deadpans. 

Akira presses his lips over the bandaged skin. 

“I think it’s fine.” 

Akira picks up the rest of the broken mug himself, setting it aside in a bag to take out when it isn’t this late. He wipes up the coffee and then sprays down the stains until he’s satisfied it won’t get sticky. He promises silently to mop the next day. 

When Akira moves for the dishes, Goro is already rolling up his sleeves at the sink. When he turns the water on, the steam curls around his arms as he sticks his hands into the sink to start scrubbing at the dishes. 

Akira doesn’t say a word when Goro finishes washing a pot and hands it to him. He just dries it and puts it away. 

Goro is swaying slightly in place, and Akira realizes there’s soft music coming from Goro’s phone, propped up on a shelf. It sounds like jazz. Maybe something they’d listen to on those nights together, talking quietly so they can still hear. He prefers it in this context even more, the way the whole thing feels domestic and comfortable. 

Akira has never felt more at peace in his entire life. 

Goro washes the dishes thoroughly and quickly, and his hands turn red halfway through but he doesn’t seem bothered anyway. He hums along to the music and doesn’t so much look at Akira while they finish cleaning up. Akira takes the clean dishes to put away and doesn’t try to break the comfortable silence between them. 

He thought he would be mad, if Goro showed up like this. He was sure that after such an ending, if Goro really was around and simply staying away...Akira had things to say. 

He had arguments to make, points on how that hurt him and how Goro should apologize and never do something like that ever again. Say how he was worried, he was sick with it, he thought the worse and that’s not  _ fair.  _

But seeing Goro here and now, Akira thinks he isn’t entitled to that. 

He thinks he’d be expecting too much from them if he were to do that. 

They are both bundles of imperfections squeezed into human bodies, and counting on Goro to always do what’s best for  _ him  _ when Goro’s life doesn’t belong to anyone but himself is selfish. Goro has never demanded as much from him, even when it came to Maruki’s reality it was clear the decision was Akira’s, and whatever he came up with would simply be what it was even if Goro has his own opinion on it. 

Goro came back, and that decision was made all on his own. That means more than any way Akira could’ve convinced him. 

Akira has always been sure that love is...to be so close to someone you can’t tell the difference. Two halves of a whole, a soulmate. An innate understanding. Something. Everything. 

Akira sets a dish in its rightful spot, and stands by the stairs with his hand hovering over the light while Goro flips the closed sign and does this cute half jog to join him. The staircase is narrow, but when Akira turns the lights off they walk up side by side anyway. 

Love is love, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean second to second. 

Goro takes up so much space, he fills up wherever he is until it overtakes, it dominates the rest. He is his own living breathing person, and Akira may love him but that doesn’t mean Goro owes anything to him. He does not own Goro, and he’s not about to cage a newly freed being and call that  _ love.  _

Likewise, he shoves Goro to the side when he tries to take a seat at his desk. He sinks into the chair and spreads out his work while Goro glares over his shoulder, and he doesn’t budge. 

“Good going genius, you’re still covered in coffee,” Goro taunts. 

“I...knew that,” he lies. 

He completely forgot. 

“I’m sure you did.” 

“If you want more comfortable clothes, feel free. I have to do this, though, so you have to entertain yourself.” 

“Contrary to popular belief, you aren’t the only thing I have going on in my life.” 

Goro bustles around behind him, pulling things out and changing in the middle of the room while Akira pointedly stares down at the very interesting math assignment in front of him. Yes, math. 

He really hates math. 

“Do you need help?” Goro asks. 

He’s got a hand scratching up the back of his neck, massaging into his scalp until he leans back and considers what he can bribe Kawakami with. Chocolate. Coffee. There’s got to be something that ends up with Akira abandoning his work load and curling up with Goro like a lazy cat. 

“Earth to Akira,” Goro prods, tugging at his hair. 

“Ow. What?” 

“Do you work, come to bed when you’re finished. I’ll make it for us.” 

Goro leaves Akira to his work, then. Mostly. 

He does keep interrupting every once in a while with a comment or something he saw on his phone or some update in his life. It helps Akira focus more, honestly. He’s never been good at putting all of his attention into one thing at a time, and he wonders if Goro knows that or if he’s trying to be a nuisance. 

Akira finishes eventually, with a crick in his neck and his hand cramping painfully. He’s not sure if he would’ve gotten through it without Goro, and he goes to tell him as much before he realizes Goro is up and about. 

“What are you doing?”

Goro bats a book to the side. 

“Nothing,” he mutters. 

“You are such a bad liar.” 

“I am not!”    
“You are  _ now _ . Lost your touch,” Akira dismisses. 

“Get over here, I’m going to kill you for real this time.” 

Akira ducks under Goro’s attempt to grab him, but he’s not quite quick enough to stand up and try to run at the same time. Goro catches him around his middle and he gets spun around. He grabs for Goro’s wrist to fend him off and gets Goro laughing helplessly as he struggles against it. He can’t help the smile that breaks across his own face too. 

When Goro gets a hand free he just dives for Akira’s ribs, digging his fingers in until he gets a choked laugh and a wheeze out of it, and when he dives in for seconds they both fall. Akira manages to land on his ass before Goro pushes him to his back, trying to half pin him even when Akira holds his arm away so the angle is awkward. 

His body is aching from falling, and now they’re at this stalemate where Goro can’t push without leverage and Akira is at a good angle to hold him back forever. 

“Truce?” Akira gasps. 

Goro kisses him. 

One second they’re both laughing and Akira is looking up at him trying to convince him to let him go and the next Goro fits their lips together again and stops all his struggling and attacking at once. 

Akira lets go of him, slowly. Goro props himself up on his own, brushing Akira’s fringe out of the way in advance. It’s not as frantic this time, it doesn’t feel like this is the first and last time they’re ever going to kiss, they’re just doing it and it’s...it’s just them. 

It’s always been them, and that’s the picture Akira has been trying to find this whole time. 

Akira rests his hand on Goro’s waist and feels impossibly full. 

Goro pulls away, hand still frozen close to his face. Then it moves, his palm resting flat on Akira’s cheek and rubbing insistently. 

“You don’t wear makeup,” he comments. 

He strokes up Akira’s eyelashes, inspects and twists and turns him around. 

“Neither do you,” Akira breathes. 

“Yeah, anymore,” Goro snorts, pulling back. 

Akira takes his hand and yanks him into place again. Goro just smiles at him. 

“You have nice skin. Mine isn’t the best. I probably messed it up more with shitty sleep and clogging it with makeup.” Goro starts petting over his face again, slower this time. “I didn’t like a good amount of my features though. It was easier to look in the mirror if I didn’t recognize who stared back at me.” 

“I--”

“I sort of gave up that effort during Maruki’s reality, I know. I know I was an absolute mess then. It’s a wonder you still looked at me the way you did.”

“I think you’re stunning, well  _ more  _ stunning like this. A perfect face is kind of boring, I like this more,” Akira admits. 

It’s what he had wanted to say back then and held himself back from. 

Goro looks at him like he’s seeing something he didn’t see before. 

Just like that, Akira knows things can go back to normal and still be okay for them. He has filled in all the spaces he could on his own, and finally the bridge-the one that’s been burned and rebuilt and torn down and jumped across-between them feels sturdy beneath his feet. 

He crosses it and doesn’t look back. 

“Up,” Goro commands. 

They stand up, and Akira lets Goro force him into non coffee stained pajamas before they get into bed together, laying eye to eye. 

He thinks maybe they  _ are  _ soulmates, but not in a two halves of a whole belief. Not in the belief that he’s been looking for Goro for his whole life, that this is it, this is the meaning to his existence. 

In a way that...they are two individuals who are unapologetically themselves with one another. They are not doubled by being together, they are more and they are better for it. 

Akira knows they’ll be okay. 

He counts Goro’s freckles after he falls asleep. Goro’s sleeping face isn’t quite peaceful, Akira watches him struggle to get to sleep and then even still scrunch his nose up and shift uncomfortably. The tension falls from his face when Akira leans in and kisses over the scattering of freckles over his nose. He seems to relax entirely when Akira starts counting out loud, a whispering of the numbers between them as he studies Goro’s face in the dark. He can hardly see, but he does his best. 

He falls asleep sometime after getting to thirty two. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, feel free to come talk to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Elsey_8)


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